


The Runaway Train

by JotunVali



Category: The Alienist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama & Romance, Good End, Laszlo is a too professional tsundere, Lot lot of angst, Lots of exaggerated, M/M, References to Depression, Suicide Attempt, a depressed puppy, john is, there is a train too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-07-18 10:04:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16116152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JotunVali/pseuds/JotunVali
Summary: A bit of a twist of episode 8 beginning. Laszlo talks too much this time. He knows it for this is the first time John replies with a punch in the alienist's face. John wonders how it is possible to be in love with such a bastard like Laszlo and how can HE be in love with Laszlo. The good doctor has so much, too much power over him, it destroys John inside. To the extent of trying the unthinkable.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> DELETE ARTICLE 13!!
> 
> https://www.change.org/p/european-parliament-stop-the-censorship-machinery-save-the-internet  
> https://saveyourinternet.eu/  
> https://www.gofundme.com/save-the-internet-info

“If you’re referring to the the fact I haven’t asked what happened to your face, it’s only because I wanted to spare you the embarrassment.” The reporter had to suffer Laszlo’s annoyingly long sentence.

“What if I told that I’ve… met an old friend for a drink?” John answered, speaking of his bruised eyes.

“That resulted in two black eyes? He sounds hardly a friend to me.” Laszlo noticed.

 _Do you even know what a friend is?_ John almost grumbled. _Sometimes I wonder if trashbags like Connor aren’t more friendly than you, dear Laszlo. Why do I even try to tell you how much it hurts every time you give me short-shrift? No matter, how much I assure myself you’re not serious and it’s just your bizarre functioning or your shitty temper. I always want to have a gun in my hand so I can blow my skull off with it every time you imply you want me out of your sight._

“Sometimes, Laszlo there are words spoken between people that should be left private.” John changed his mind, replying with an as pointlessly long sentence as his friend’s.

 _“Are you sure you aren’t a fairy as well?”_ The corrupted officer had asked John the night before, his gun pointed on the beaten up illustrator’s face _. “Always hanging out with that alienist…”_

John had looked away, responding with a “ _you don’t scare me_ ” and so not answering the question. The truth was he actually was scared. Not of Connor, but of his answer that had remained secret. It had always been secret. To remain safe. And not be left alone. By his best friend he was in love with.

“Laszlo, there’s something I need to ask you.” The reporter jerked up, putting aside his newspaper.

“What is it?” The doctor genuinely asked.

“Ugh, no! I can’t! I can’t ask you something so ridiculous!” He abruptly changed his mind again.

“I’m an alienist, John. You can ask me anything. No matter the ridicule of it.” Laszlo calmly reminded as if he was reading the newspapers’ want-ad page.

The illustrator received that line as an umpteenth will from his beloved alienist to belittle him. As if Laszlo assumed John’s questions always had to be stupid. John now was confirmed he was the worst idiot for still following his so-called friend who saw him only as a distraction not to be alone on their journey. Like a good doggie. He was Laszlo’s dog.

_Do you think I’m a fairy?_

No, he couldn’t possibly ask that! Especially when the hint of his suspicions was his likely attraction to Laszlo himself. Being accused of loving the alienist right after the latter told you to piss off and you barely mattered to him was so ironic, so unfair… so painful. Much more painful than two punches in the face. Especially when the grand doctor barely had talked to or even looked at you since that morning.

John really was nothing but a tool for Laszlo. No, he was his dog. His fucking obedient, submissive dog! The doctor behaved like the complete opposite of a friend towards him the day before, to the point of making him going back to booze and speakeasies, yet here was the reporter, back at the alienist’s feet, following his orders like a good circus poodle as if nothing happened. John didn’t notice his eyesight was blurring.

“Very well. If you don’t want to ask your ridiculous question, then don’t.” Laszlo coldly stated. “Try to figure out how to approach our witness instead. I believe it will be more fruitful to our case than asking silent questions in a tombstone voice.”

Oh dear God! And poor Mary was in love **_and_ ** living with that bastard? Same bastard who claimed he could feel love too? Bullshit. He didn’t know what love was! He thought of it as a disease! Had that man no heart, no affection at all for anyone? How was it possible two people -maybe three- were in love with him? John tried to wipe off his tears but it was vain. The tears he had managed to refrain with alcohol throughout all these years were dripping endlessly.

He didn’t notice a certain alienist was staring at him with a glimmer of something close to concern in his not-that-expressionless eyes.

“John, please. This is no time neither is the place for that kind of meltdown. If you don’t get yourself together quickly, I fear you will actually embarrass both of us for good.”

John lost control. He stood up. His hand sharply slapped the alienist’s cheek which soon turned red. Laszlo managed to refrain from gasping.

“Go to hell.” John only could grit his teeth before he ran for the rear of the train.

“John!” Laszlo called, his hand still on his itching cheek. He felt more surprised than hurt. He’d forgotten his friend could hit so hard.

Outside, at the rear, bathed into the loud ruckus of the creaking wheels and dark coal steam and tempestuous, chiseling, howling wind, John could have sworn this all was a physical manifestation of his current inner thoughts.

Why? Why was he in love with a man, for God’s sake? It was so repulsive! He’d have loved to punch back Connor, asserting that no, he wasn’t a ‘fairy’ and, most of all, wasn’t in love with Laszlo. But the corrupted bastard was right. Despite the fact Laszlo treated him as his bitch no later than the day before, denying what he’s done to Sara and spitting right in his face the illustrator was nothing to him, here John was, still obeying and listening to Laszlo like a good puppy. Oh, why wasn’t he in love only with Sara? She was a woman and she was so perfect! Only looking for your well-being, searching for every possible pattern and motive for their case, unlike a certain doctor, never letting her own feelings, her pride or social expectations interfering with her search… She shared a common trait with Laszlo though. She didn’t love John back. The loser he was kept falling in love with people who didn’t love him back. Sometimes with people who openly despised him. Maybe _he_ was the masochist one after all. But this pathetic situation was way more painful than delightful.

Thanks to the howling wind and the metallic grinding of wheels against rails, no one would hear him sobbing, like the pathetic appalling monster he was. He loved people who didn’t love or even remotely like him, he loved men, and he didn’t was of any use in this sordid children murders case! Though God knew how he yearned to catch that horrible murderer! John was nothing but a stupid, useless, emotional drunkard. And a fairy. Why did everyone, why did _Laszlo_ still want him to be part of the investigation? Oh, right. Because he couldn’t -or wouldn’t- talk directly to Sara anymore. John was still here just to be the intermediary between her and that stubborn jerk! Otherwise, Laszlo would have kicked him out a long time ago. The miserable reporter wasn’t even sure if he was jealous of Laszlo or of Sara! He stared down at the rails. Those rails that didn’t seem to move were actually dashing away with the train’s high speed. What if…? He wondered if it would hurt. Yes, of course it would. But it’d hurt so much less that all this unrequited, stomped on love and that inner voice, sounding exactly like Laszlo’s, which kept reminding him how lame and stupid and repulsive he was. He wished Connor had shot him dead last night instead of just beating him to a pulp. If only the guy’s punches hurt more than John’s constantly bleeding heart.

_I’m so pathetic. So pathetic._

 

He bended down, over the thin fence.


	2. Chapter 2

A couple of wagons away, the alienist was striding, slipping through the passengers and the train’s staff . Where did John go? He still hadn’t find him. The end of the train, maybe?

The desperate reporter put a foot forward, feeling the void under it. The roaring wind already was slicing off his shoe bit by bit.

The door behind him abruptly opened. On a tousled Laszlo.

“John! No!” He screamed as he pulled John backwards. They both ended up on the floor. “What the hell were you doing?” He demanded before giving a good slap to the illustrator.

He noticed afterwards John’s eyes were puffed red and his face covered in tears. Did he slap _that_ hard? No, this was there for a few minutes at least. But why? Was it because of…?

“Is it…? Is it because of what I said earlier?” He asked though he couldn’t believe it; unnoticing his own hand cupping the mistreated cheek.

John grunted and he turned his face away, refusing that infuriating gesture of made-up affection.

“Yeah of course, just a mere one of your countless scathing lines made me want to splatter my body on sharp rocks from a moving train!” The outraged illustrator spat.

“John, I… I know that case greatly upset you. But now is not the right moment to lose heart! I remind you we have an important witness to…”

“‘ _Lose heart_ ’? ‘ **_Lose heart_ ** ’??? Isn’t it what happened to **_you_ ** a long time ago??” John barked and shoved away the doctor as fresh tears spurt out of his black eyes.

Laszlo lost his voice.

“No reply? No brilliant argumentation this time? If so, let me die in peace!” His furious friend scowled before he stood up.

“John, stop! What’s gotten into you to come up with such an… extreme act?” The confused doctor asked in an rarely hesitating voice.

“Even if you cared about my answer, it would complete your disgust of me.” John assumed.

“My _‘disgust’_ of you?” Laszlo repeated in disbelief.

“Disgust, despisal, hatred, call it the way you want! Not just yours. Everyone thinks of me as worthless. They’re right though. I have a pointless job, even useless now photography exists, I’m part of a criminal investigation yet can’t stand the sight of blood or even defend myself -or anyone else!, I fill my stomach with cheap swill every time I’m upset, I pay to get a bit of human warmth, every woman I love turns me down,...”

Laszlo felt a bit sick for he knew his cold behavior towards his friend probably didn’t help the latter from thinking all of that. He looks down at the shaking floor. So that was the cause of the slap from before.

“John…” He tried to sound the most compassionate he could and to take the reporter’s hand.

“... and… and I’m in love with a bastard who openly hates me!” John roared out.

Laszlo wondered for a moment who that bastard may be but as he was staring into John’s scrutinizing glare, he rapidly came up to the only possible conclusion.

“I… I…” The puzzled alienist stammered. “I… am sorry.”

“You? _Sorry_ ? What for? For your annoyingly composed face in front of children corpses? For your impudent rummage in other people’s private life while it’s almost a lese-majesty crime to merely wish to know **_you_ ** ? For hurting Sara? For not apologizing to her? For taking me for your doormat? For using my skills and then dump me away like a dirty handkerchief? For mocking my taste for booze and whores while **_you_ ** ’re the main cause of it?” John gasped and put his hand over his mouth for it was the only way to make it stop before admitting too much. Tears now covered his shivering hand. He closed his black eyelids.

It pierced Laszlo’s heart like with the sharpest knife. He still hadn’t asked for the origin of these black eyes. Not because he wanted to ‘spare the embarrassment’ for him or John. Because he already knew. He and John had another stupid argument the night before which had ended with the alienist’s umpteenth hurtful reply. John surely had run back to bars and had a fight there. And here was the doctor believing pushing away John would make the latter safe… _Schwachsinn_. What if John’s opponent had had a weapon? Would John even be here in that train with him then? And yet, Laszlo had to belittle him for that too! Hence his earlier deduction: “Sounds hardly a friend to me.” He wasn’t thinking about the guy who had punched John: he was thinking about his poor self who led his fragile friend back to his old demons and to a likely death. What kind of friend would do that?

John dropped down on his knees.

“John!” The alienist knelt down to him. “John…” He put his hand on a trembling shoulder. His friend still had his eyes shut down and his hands covering his mouth to muffle his sobs.

Laszlo didn’t push away John just in a poor attempt to protect him, but also because he loathed to admit his… affection for his weeping friend. Even to himself. First, because he loved Mary, and it really was unfair towards her the alienist may love someone else too, even if she and John both bore the doctor’s terrible behavior everyday in their own respective ways, secondly, well, because although Laszlo despised society’s uptight views about the matter, he still thought such a love wasn’t very… acceptable, he’ll have to thank his parents for that by the way, and thirdly, simply because John couldn’t love him back! John loved women! John loved Sara! Well, that’s what the alienist had believed until now.

Now John believed Sara just as Laszlo both hated him.

Even for Mary, would Laszlo leave his best friend in such a dreadful state? Would she even approve? The doctor pictured his maid next to him. No, she wouldn’t. She’d display a disappointed expression on her face and walk away. And she would be right. Laszlo wondered if she had already guessed or if John had ever told her about his feelings for the alienist. No, John would never. Contrary to him, the reporter was too kind to tell something that might hurt the person he talks to. To the extent of making them flee back to firewater and disreputable streets...

“John…” Laszlo whispered in a cracked voice. His eyes started to blur. “Is it… is it true?... what you’ve just said…”

“Oh no, admitting to the most cold-hearted bastard I know I have repulsive and unnatural feelings for him is an innocent light joke!” The downcast reporter sarcastically growled. “What will you do now? Study me like the fascinating specimen I am? Throw me in an asylum? Kick me out of that train? Let me tell you I’d rather have the third option!” John screamed before he lowered his head.

A few seconds later, despite the loud wind, he caught the sound of a… sniffle and a faint… whimper? The illustrator looked up. What he saw baffled him.

“Laszlo? Is that you?”

His alienist friend was weeping and squeaking? In front of him?

“I… I’m not even sure… who to identify as ‘me’, John.” He bitterly smirked. “Am I the famous New York alienist? Am I the idiotic fellow whose pride prevents him from saying sorry to our Miss Howard? The cold master too clumsy to admit to his maid he loves her? Or the dreadful bastard who is still convinced treating you like shit is the best way to express my secret feelings for you?” Laszlo wondered out loud as tears were streaming out.

“ _You_ ?” John chuckled. “Feelings for _me_? You didn’t have to extend my lifespan of a few more minutes if it was just to laugh at me one last time.” He grumbled.

“I know, I KNOW you can’t believe me!” The panicking doctor insisted, squeezing shut his wet eyes. “But that’s simply the truth.”

“Oh God, Satan, give me strength!” John whined.

“I’ve… I’ve lied to you, John!” Laszlo expelled. “You’re not just a… handsome and indolent friend to me! Or to Sara!”

John didn’t move an inch.

“She… she likes you! She likes you a lot!” The alienist cried.

“How do you know?” John mumbled.

“She told me! She simply told me. If not for me, please John, stay alive for her.” Laszlo pleaded.

The reporter remained silent a few moments.

“Is it why you quarrelled her? And why you threw me out last night? You were jealous of… Sara?” John realized in shock.

“What? No! On the contrary! I’d **_love_ ** to see her marry you!” The alienist cried out. “It was a more... private matter.”

“What could possibly be more private??”

“I’ll tell you in due time, John! I promise! For now I just want you to step away for that void underneath and go back to our seats!” He begged with thick tears running off his eyes. “Please.”

“You amaze me, Laszlo. You still don’t realize your limitless nerve. Do you really think just because you tell me this, I’m going to believe you care for me? That you **_love_ ** me? You think love is like cholera! And if you truly love me, that would mean you’ve messed with me for years, convincing me with the subtleness of a hammer you despised me!” John roared out again, with flows of warm tears dripping down before he started to pant. “While… while…”

“John…”

“While I’ve been loving you, adoring you…” The reporter sobbed. “...even now.”

He was about to drop down again but Laszlo caught him in time to gently put him down.

“John… I love you too, do you hear me? I love you too.” He softly whispered in an erratic breathing into John’s ear.

 


	3. Chapter 3

John slowly looked up to reach glittering brown eyes. Should he…? No, that was too easy, too unfair! He abruptly stood up and roughly shoved the alienist away.

“Will you stop fucking with me, Laszlo?” The broken-hearted illustrator barked. “You don’t know what love is! You’re…  **_incapable_ ** of loving!” He threw at his confused friend.

_ So it will still go that way? _ The doctor got stung.  _ So be it. _

“What should I say about  _ your  _ way of loving, John? You get laid with prostitutes every night to then scream out loud you love Miss Howard to later claim Julia Pratt is the only woman you’ve ever loved! I’d rather admit I don’t know a particular concept than being hypocritical about it!” Laszlo spat his usual oral poison.

That was it. The point of no-return. No longer time to shed tears or depress. John barely noticed his own fist raised in the air that it already had punched the alienist’s jaw. Tears streamed along his cheeks nonetheless. Because Laszlo deserved that punch or because he didn’t? John didn’t even know. What he knew was that letting it go at last felt oh so liberating! Almost orgasmic!

The pleasure was short-lived for the bearded doctor hadn’t lost his impulses and punched John back. Still, the done illustrator had expected it.

“So I was right, wasn’t I?” He murmured through strangling tears. “You give no shit about me. You just want to…  _ spare yourself the embarrassment _ to have to explain why you came back alone. You ignore the wonders of love so much you even reject the rare crazy people who feel it for you.”

_ Mary is not crazy, John!  _ Laszlo yearned to reply before he quickly realized the miserable illustrator was talking about himself. But then maybe Mary  _ was  _ crazy. Not because she was mute; because, just like John, she loved the cold alienist. Was it even love Laszlo felt for her? Or for John? He’d wished to discuss the matter with his reporter friend to be sure of his feelings, for John was THE love specialist, the best to openly show love to anyone… and here was the brainless doctor spitting right in that puppy face he was as clueless as the alienist regarding the matters of love!  _ Who  _ was being hypocritical here?

Wait! Laszlo hadn’t rejected Mary in the end! Had he rejected John when he saw him about to jump? No, he hadn’t! Because… because he loved them! He cared about them! He was giving all the shits about them! He just was the lamest seducer ever! He just was too scared… he just was… a coward. 

_Oh dear Miss Howard… hadn’t I messed up everything, maybe I’d be loving you too. And maybe… surely I wouldn’t have smashed this wonderful man’s heart into pieces again._ Laszlo stared at John’s furious weeping eyes. _And made him risking his life... no, wanting to_ ** _end_** _his life…_ His own started to blur again. _What kind of man am I? Am I really an impostor like_ Vater _used to call me? I want to take care of strangers while I always hurt the people I care the most about? Is that what he meant?_

Laszlo still hadn’t finished his inner monologue he gasped in dread noticing John was staggering back to the wagon’s edge. 

_ No, I’m not! I’m not an impostor! _

“John!” He caught his friend’s arm.

“Leave me me alone!” John protested.

_ I won’t be an impostor! John… John! _

His sincere heart was racing and dashing as his stubborn mouth remained silent. He sharply pulled on the reporter’s arm. His own met John’s moist lips.

“I’ve been loving you... since we met, John.” Laszlo managed to pronounce despite his quivering lips and precarious breath. “And... I’m dreadfully sorry... you had to believe otherwise.”

John couldn’t get off his soaked eyes from the doctor’s. He’d just kissed him. Of all people, Laszlo - **_Laszlo_ ** for God’s sake!- just had kissed him and told the reporter he loved him. Still John doubted and wasn’t happy about it. What if it was a trick from the cunning alienist to  _ ‘spare him the embarrassment _ ’ to come back to New York alone? Everything looked and sounded so surreal suddenly! Laszlo never talked or behaved that way! Especially not with John! Was it the truth and did Laszlo honestly spoke his heart out -which he was the most careful in the universe to NEVER do? Or was it a clever façade to manipulate him for the umpteenth time -which was the most likely option? John didn’t care. He didn’t care anymore. He was at the brink of death, maybe already dead or even batshit crazy, maybe he was imagining things that just couldn’t happen in the real world. He didn’t give a single shit! John turned back and bluntly kissed the alienist back.

What? John was kissing him back? Did it mean… he believed in his lame confession? Against all odds? All… all this time they were in love with each other? All this time… pointlessly suffering in silence… stupidly thinking the other couldn’t love him back… skirts and booze for the one and deep burial of his affection until acting like a total dick for the other… all this bullshit for nothing! But what truly made Laszlo shed warm tears over his newfound lover’s lips was all that tragicomedy fit for an opera play had hurt and scarred his John way more than it had the alienist.  **_He_ ** could put up with it. John couldn’t. Still Laszlo had acted like everything was fine for his heavenly kisser of a reporter. While it was -and still is!- crystal clear it  **wasn’t** ! Oh  _ Gott _ , how much pain had he been through all these years -even without taking into account the countless times John suffered a hangover or got assaulted or rejected; sometimes by none other than the great alienist himself?

Keeping on shoving his long -too long!- repressed love into John’s bruised face, Laszlo couldn’t stop his left hand from cupping his beloved friend’s cheek. Thus, John wouldn’t escape or think of splattering his body on the ground. And if it wasn’t enough, Laszlo was ready to take off his clothes and let John roughly make love to him. Here and now. Within that howling gust of wind. Even if chances to get syphilis or any other shameful disease were high with a man like John. Laszlo didn’t care. Only John’s happiness mattered right now.

But to the doctor’s disappointment, John stopped their fiery kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? OwO


	4. Chapter 4

Heavily panting, Laszlo stared at John. His tears still hadn’t dried. He looked so sad and confused.

_ Es ist deine Schuld! It’s your fault! _

It hurt as if a long rusty nail was being pinned down in his not that cold heart. What should he do? Kissing John again? Letting him do as he pleased?

“John…” The lost alienist let that precious name escape from his lips.

Lips that couldn’t utter more for the reporter sharply kissed them again without warning; wrapping the startled alienist’s skull in his large but lively warm hands. It was like John’s desperate tongue and lips were breaking into Laszlo’s inexperienced mouth. A much less pleasant sensation than kissing gentle Mary but if it was from his beloved John, the unsure doctor could endure it all day.  

The hot-blooded illustrator broke their kiss again and heavily panted as if he’d just run a marathon. His heart and temples beat so furiously they were about to explode, his tears wouldn’t stop flowing and his itching eyes kept staring at Laszlo as to be sure he really lived what he’d just lived.

“I… I don’t understand.” John admitted, hardly breathing. “I don’t… you... you’ve just… dismantled… everything I believed in… in only a few seconds.” He wailed. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.” He lamented as he was looking down at his feet.

The alienist lifted John’s chin between his thumb and forefinger so he’d keep looking at him.

“Never believe it whenever I imply I don’t like you.” He told his weeping friend straight into his blood-shot eyes. 

He thought he’d noticed a shade of a smile on that sweet face before being jumped at and warmly hugged by his expressive partner. The embarrassed doctor awkwardly hugged him back with only his left arm. He deeply breathed in, then slowly breathed out to prevent his throat from screaming his burning love out and his eyes from crying all of his body’s water. It felt so soothing and so heavenly to have the body of your beloved one slammed against yours. Maybe that was why Laszlo always insisted to have John close to him as often as possible. To attend an opera play for example. He smiled against John’s slightly quivering shoulder.

“I still don’t understand, Laszlo.” John smoothly whispered in his right ear. “You’ve told me... you loved Mary.” 

Laszlo’s smile shattered down.

“And… you’d love… to see Sara marry me… Yet… I believe you… when you say you love me.” John bitterly chuckled. “See? This is what you do to me. You can make me feel... and believe anything you want. I will do anything you ask. Whether it bothers me or not. Life-threatening or not.” The reporter faintly sobbed. 

“John, please…” 

“When you don’t want me around… when you’re not.. pleased with what I’ve done… I feel so… torn… guilty… worthless…” John started to wet the alienist’s coat. “As if the world… was crumbling down around me.”

“John…” Laszlo begged. He was going to turn into a sea water puddle.

John fakely laughed again.

“I really am… a dog. A giant talking dog.” He belittled himself.

_ ‘They’re just stupid, stupid dogs!’  _

“You’re not, John.” The distressed alienist tried to support him as he remembered the boy who liked to beat up actual dogs. 

_ Pff! And you dared to reprimand and lecture that boy while you did the same thing on your side! Except  _ **_you_ ** _ did it with the people, the man you love and cherish the most! I’m a hundred times worse! _

“John.” Laszlo softly stepped back. “I… I can’t deny I love Mary. That is… an indisputable fact.”

_ I even kissed her before you. _

The appalled illustrator softly gasped.

“No, John! I did not finish!” Laszlo pleaded, stepping forward.

“Well at least... that makes one requited love. I hope for her you’ll treat her right. She deserves it.”

“I know and I will do so! But John,  **you** deserve it too! I love you too!” The panicking alienist asserted.

“What about your wish to see Sara as my wife then?” The clueless reporter urged Laszlo.

“Because…! Because she’ll treat you way better than me. She already did. She made you stop drinking; while **_I_ ** threw you back in the cheap swill no later than last night!”

_ How did he guess? _ John wondered before remembering the alienist knew everything. Especially about him.

“John…” Laszlo tenderly cupped the reporter’s right cheek. “She loves you.  **She** makes you happy.  **She** treats you properly. Marry her.  **Live** with her.” He ordered, staring back into John’s lovely eyes.

John understood that meant: ‘stop hanging out with me, stop visiting me, stop seeing me, do everything we did together with Sara from now’.

“Laszlo, I’d be the most blissful man in the world if I lived with Sara. But… that doesn’t mean I have… I can’t… I don’t  **want** to stop seeing you!” He took the doctor’s hands in his. “Not after all you’ve just said! Not after what’s just happened! Not after… this.”

The usually so sure alienist was speechless.

“Laszlo, you can’t tell someone who’s been adoring you all his life you actually love him back to order him to live with someone else just afterwards!” John scolded him. “Even if it’s impossible to live together anyway, even if I love Sara, even if I wish happiness for Mary!” He ferociously blurted out, his eyes spurting thick tears. “You can’t… you can’t reject me  **again** ! Under the fucking  **LAME** pretext you mistreat me! What do you think you’re doing right now?” He growled. 

“I’m not…! I only want to protect you!” Laszlo retorted.

“I don’t want to be protected! I want to be loved! By  **_YOU_ ** !  _ Arschloch _ !” The worn out illustrator roared, dropping off Laszlo’s hands.

Making his best to hold back the rest of his threatening tears, the trembling doctor didn’t reply anything and stared down at his shoes. John could hear faint sniffles.

“I’m sorry John.” Laszlo managed to say with quivering lips. He bit on them. “You asked for it.”

He rushed at his friend, gripped on his collar and roughly pulled on it to have John’s soft lips back on his.


	5. Chapter 5

Laszlo broke the kiss again. He really wasn’t comfortable with physical affection. Or affection at all.

“What will you do… when we reach our station? Just... carry on the investigation?” John asked out of fear. He didn’t know Laszlo as much as he craved to but he was 99% sure his friend would mechanically carry on his research, then his alienist life, only talking and thinking about his insufferable bookworm knowledge and psychological analyzes, acting as if their kisses and confessions never happened. Maybe the only utterance of it the reporter would get would be a “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Moore.” or a “Whiskey really did mess up with your cerebral faculties this time.” or a “I did not properly think back then. It merely was an emotional mistake. Sorry for having made you believe in your own delusions.”

“Question our next witnesses, of course. And... enhance our chances to catch our serial killer.” The alienist gave the most expected and painful answer to the love-drunk reporter.

John softly sighed and made his best not to look disappointed and hurt. 

“I meant… about Mary…” He tried.

“Right.” Laszlo acknowledged before he cleared his throat. “Well, now is not quite the ideal moment to think about such a delicate matter, is it?”

“You weren’t so unwilling to chat about her a few minutes ago.” John attempted to smile but failed. “I’ve never thought...you… of all people would harass my ears with questions about… love.” He glanced at his embarrassed friend.

“As much as I must appear like a know-it-all doctor, sometimes I have to be the asking one.” Laszlo admitted.

“Well, you just had your answers, student Kreizler.”

“I don’t intend to drown into alcohol or attempt suicide because of love though.”

John couldn’t help snorting. He didn’t even find Laszlo’s bossy lines that hurtful anymore. He just thought it was cute for the truth was the confident doctor knew no shit about the mysteries of love. Far more complex than the mysteries of a criminal case.

“Of course.” The illustrator smiled. “You’re way above the common, vulgar, feeble average human being’s ways.”

“Maybe I am. Although I’m… despite what my occupation demands of me… and personal wishes… still able to hold… affection.” The stammering alienist blushed. “Not just… for Mary… I mean.”

“The cold and stiff Laszlo Kreizler actually in love with the whole humanity! Who would have thought?” John grinned.

“After due consideration, maybe I should push you far down, far away from that train.” Laszlo gripped on his friend’s tie.

“You won’t.”

“ _ Versuch es _ .” The doctor fakely threatened before he attempted another kiss on John’s now calmer lips. Though he couldn’t help thinking Mary’s tasted better. Well  **_she_ ** didn’t drink or smoke. In fact, he looked forward to his return to New York so he could kiss her again. “I assume… I’ll have to… properly propose to her. Even though I’m not sure to find a minister who’d be willing to unite us.”

Although he was fighting the dreadful jealousy feeling, John immediately foresaw a more distant Laszlo towards him. He knew he should be happy for them and two men couldn’t marry each other anyway, but he just felt… rejected. Again. No matter how hard he tried.  

“You’ve never cared much about religious people’s opinions about your lifestyle. Why would you now?” John searched for a loophole.

“Mary may care about it.” Laszlo reminded him. “After all, I’ve never asked her. But you’re right. I don’t care one bit about bigots’ views on my way of life. As long as Mary is alright with it, of course.” 

John wasn’t only implying the issues of a racially mixed marriage. Strangely, it just hurt so much to hear Mary’s name aso many times in Laszlo’s mouth. Especially just after the latter kissed you!

“What will  **you** do when we close our case, John?” The alienist enquired.

_ I don’t want to close our case! We’ve just barely opened it!  _ The reporter yearned to scream when he realized his friend was talking about their murderer to catch.

“I… I don’t know.” He sincerely admitted. “I… I didn’t even expect to be still alive by now.” He chuckled without a single hint of joy in his tired voice.

“I suggest you may… need to abandon our investigation. It’s ostensibly much too upsetting for you. Also hazardous. And that way, you may… try your luck with Miss Howard.” Laszlo induced him.

_ Don’t close our case! Stop pushing me away! _

“What? No way! I want to find Dury too!” John protested.

“ **Wanting** to find Dury is not a relevant enough argument to be part of a criminal investigation, John!” Laszlo lectured him. “How many times did you almost die since we’ve started it? Moreover, I thought you’d be pleased to have more freedom to court Miss Howard! You’ll have more spare time and this time I won’t be in your way!”

“Wha-? How did you…?” A flabbergasted illustrator stuttered.

_ How did you guess I was jealous of your closeness with Sara? _

“Nevermind.” John gave up. Laszlo always, ALWAYS knows! “Sorry to contradict your theories, my friend, but I think... my supposed wish to court Sara is less important than catching a killer of children! And of course…! Of course I almost died many times, that’s what... a serious case like that implies, isn’t it? You almost did too! Yet you don’t think it’d be wiser to… stand aside, do you?”

_ Because your life is much more precious than mine, John!  _ The trapped alienist clenched his jaw, struggling not to utter that shameful admittance.

“Either way…” John carried on. “Sara wouldn’t care at all about my pointless serenades. Only about… her searches and she would be right! Stopping murders matters more than selfish… and hopeless wishes of happiness. You, of all people… should understand that.” 

John was right. That was Laszlo firstly thought. And yet… and yet… he still was firmly convinced John’s life mattered more than his own or even than Dury’s potential victims’. That was wrong and unprofessional of course, especially on behalf of someone who daily works with children. Laszlo wondered if he’d even carry on the investigation if John or Mary were to die. Maybe not.  _ Scheiße _ . Love really was a disabling feeling. Way more disabling than a crippled arm. 

“Laszlo…  **Wanting** to protect me is not a… _ relevant enough argument _ … to kick me out of our case.” The reporter proudly smirked.

“I guess it’s not, John.” The alienist smiled.

“And… by the way… about... Sara…”

Laszlo’s smile crashed down.

“You still won’t tell me… what happened between her and you?” John asked in a tiny voice, like a small child ready to get slapped by his mother or father.

_ After all, that’s  _ **_your_ ** _ choice not to answer that all this shit from the night before to now happened!  _ Laszlo thought.

“I’ve told you, John. In due time. I promise.” He answered in the most benevolent tone he could make.

“Damn me!” John bitterly chuckled again. “Cause I believe you.”

“You won’t… you CAN’T be damned, John!” The ferocious doctor accidentally let it slip out of his not so well padlocked mouth. He blushed up at once.

“No… Not today at least.” The troubled reporter assumed, staring at the endlessly rushing away horizon. The mountains, the desert, the forest, the rivers… all gobbled up by that merciless horizon… As if they had never existed to begin with. Something soft and warm took his hand.

“John…”

He swiftly glanced back at Laszlo.  **_He_ ** had just grabbed his hand. And just how many times John’s first name had made it through Laszlo’s lips?

“I still accept… you take part in our investigation.” The doctor gazed at his best friend’s dark eyes. “But… you have to promise, you have to SWEAR you won’t try…  _ ‘that’  _ again.” Laszlo warned him, slightly clutching his hand around John’s.

“Do your best to rescue me then.” The smitten illustrator whispered. “And I’ll do my best not to… embarrass you.”

“Don’t make promises… you can’t keep.” The alienist mocked before he let his friend gently put his lips on his own and kiss him in a slower, softer and more likeable way. “The train is slowing down. Let’s get off or we’ll miss our station.”

_ I hope I’ll never get off your heart’s train, Laszlo. ♥ _

**Author's Note:**

> DELETE ARTICLE 13!!
> 
> https://www.change.org/p/european-parliament-stop-the-censorship-machinery-save-the-internet  
> https://saveyourinternet.eu/  
> https://www.gofundme.com/save-the-internet-info


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